


Turn out the light, and then...

by Vae



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It starts with a headache. At least, it probably does, because no one ever takes notice of a headache, right? Just a headache. Adam swallows a couple of Advil, then a couple more at bedtime, and falls into bed expecting it to be gone by morning.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn out the light, and then...

It starts with a headache. At least, it probably does, because no one ever takes notice of a headache, right? Just a headache. Adam swallows a couple of Advil, then a couple more at bedtime, and falls into bed expecting it to be gone by morning.

It's not. Morning's worse, pain so sharp he doesn't want to open his eyes, never mind the drapes. Thank fuck he's in a hotel, because the noise of the A/C is painful enough, and so is every movement of his head. The bus would be unbearable, too much noise and movement and not enough air, shit, there's nowhere near enough air.

He's still in bed when Tommy pushes the door open, spilling light into the room, and that's enough to get him to move. A whimper that reverberates through his head, and he pulls a pillow over his eyes, blocking the light out, and he thinks he's got away with it for a few blessed seconds until the mattress dips and the pillow's ruthlessly pulled away.

"Fuck _off_ ," Adam rasps, curls up,and folds his arms over his face in place of the pillow, shivering as the ache of movement settles through his muscles.

"Like that's fucking likely." Tommy's hand sweeps over his hair, gentle but still enough to set off a fresh burst of pain. "What'd you take last night?"

Adam's brain's sluggish enough that it takes a while to get what Tommy's asking, and when he does get it, he groans. He regrets the groan the moment it's out because that fucking hurts, too. "Advil?"

"That's it?" There's silence for a moment. Adam sinks into it in utter relief, until the mattress moves again. "I'm getting Lane."

~~~

Adam doesn't remember Lane coming in. He doesn't remember much. There are vague impressions of movement that he resents intensely, hands stopping him from curling up, the weight of blankets. Movement and motors and bright lights, interspersed with blessed blankness. It's better when it's blank. When it's blank, nothing hurts. When it's not blank, there's a sharp smell and a confusion of voices, nothing he can identify. Not even how much time passes. Hours, maybe days. It doesn't matter.

Not until he does recognize a voice.

It's not a voice he expects to hear. Kris is busy, Kris is the other side of the country, Kris is touring and promoting his new album. Kris can't be here. Wherever he is.

That's definitely Kris's voice, though, dry and rough, cracked, like he's been singing too much, talking too much, not resting and not drinking enough. He wants to reach out, to touch Kris, to do something to let him know that he's there, something to ease the distress in his voice, but the pain's blanketed in something thick, heavy and dark, and he can't move.

~~~

Next time the pain breaks, it's clearer. Adam draws a deep breath, testing, and another when it doesn't hurt. At least, it doesn't hurt as much as he expects. He's finally warm, but his hand's warmer, and he risks opening his eyes, slitting them cautiously against expectation of light and agony. It aches, and the flinch is still there, but he can almost focus, a beloved familiar shape blurred by the side of his bed, an unfamiliar room beyond.

Kris.

He's slumped over the bed, his shoulder a graceless curve of shadow, hair a wild tangle of spikes, but none of that matters. What matters is that the warmth Adam can feel is Kris holding his hand.

He smiles, lets his eyes close, finally relaxes and sinks back into the darkness.


End file.
